My Heart Has Made Up Its Mind
Title: My Heart Has Made Up Its Mind
Author: aneuhaus
Rating: PGish
My undying gratitude to azdak for her practiced eye and willing heart. Also, as usual, I went begging to her for a title, and she produced this one, along with the poem she took it from.
"My Heart Has Made Up Its Mind"
by Wendy Cope
My heart has made its mind up
And I’m afraid it’s you.
Whatever you’ve got lined up,
My heart has made its mind up
And if you can’t be signed up
This year, next year will do.
My heart has made its mind up
And I’m afraid it’s you.
“Hello, Miss Rodgers,” the lovely young redhead greeted the equally attractive woman behind the large desk.
“Hi, Eleanor. The old man isn’t in, so you don’t have to be so formal. How are you?”
"Frankly, a bit confused, Lisa. Have you seen Napoleon lately?”
“Yeah. I went out with him Tuesday night. He was weird, though. If I didn’t know better, I’d tell Mr. Waverly that THRUSH had sent us another double.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I went to dinner with him last night, and it was - um - just dinner, if you know what I mean - as if we were old college pals, or something.”
“That’s exactly how he was with me!”
“So it isn’t you, then.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I had a lot of time to think last night, since I was home before eleven o’clock.”
“And what did you come up with?”
“I think - now, don’t laugh - that Napoleon Solo is in love. I told you not to laugh!”
“Oh, come on. You say something that outrageous and expect me not to laugh? Napoleon knows the meanings of a lot of words that most people don’t, and shouldn’t, but he definitely doesn’t know the meaning of the word 'love'. I don’t think I’ve even heard him say it in the four years I’ve known him, unless he was applying it to a five hundred dollar suit or a plate of ravioli. Besides, if he is in love, who is it? And why is he still dating?”
“That’s what I was wondering. I thought you were the most likely candidate. Maybe he’s too shy to declare himself. There you go, laughing again.”
“You have to admit that’s pretty ridiculous.”
“I don’t know. I’ve often thought that there’s an important part of Napoleon that he keeps hidden away - some secret that he doesn’t feel he can trust anyone with.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Eleanor. Any way, you asked if I had seen him lately. He came by here just before you walked in, and sailed right past without even a tilt of his head. I asked him where he was going, just to get his attention. ‘Oh, Lisa’, he said, and looked right past me, ‘how are you?’ and without even waiting for a reply he headed straight for the elevator. And the strangest thing - he pressed the button for the basement. Here it is, seven pm on a Friday, and not only is he still here, but he’s going to the basement.”
“Hmmm, I was just on my way to the basement myself to see Il…i…if any files had been left lying around down there. You know how absent minded those genius-type scientists are.”
“Alright. I, for one, am going home. The old man has been gone for an hour and I’m still here. That’s got to stop!”
“Have a good weekend, Lisa.”
“Oh, Eleanor, if you run into Napoleon, are you going to ask him about his deep, dark secret?”
“Being laughed at three times in one day is all I can take. Good night, Lisa.”
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The elevator deposited Eleanor in the semi-dark and slightly dank basement hallway. On the ride down, she had decided that she would, indeed, ask Napoleon what was going on the next time she ran into him. After all, he was intimately familiar with every orifice of her body. That should give her some rights.
As she expected, there was only one light on in the long corridor, so she headed toward it. It was coming from the Illya’s lab. Illya always worked later than anyone else, whether he was developing or analyzing something in the lab, or doing his (or Napoleon’s) paperwork in his office. She knew he wasn’t in his office. She had already checked.
Eleanor wasn’t sure what she would say to Illya if she found him. She only knew that she hadn’t laid eyes on him all day - and that just wouldn’t do. Besides, it was Friday, and the idea that it would be two whole days before she would have a chance to look into those gorgeous blue eyes and, if she was very lucky, see those tempting lips turn up into that slight half-smile that made her heart beat just a bit faster than normal, was not one she was willing to take.
More often than she would like to admit, she had caught herself daydreaming about slipping that black turtleneck off and exploring, with hands and mouth, what lay beneath. Looking and not touching had never been one of her rules to live by.
She approached the sliver of light that shone through the slightly ajar door and heard voices. No, a voice. Deep and breathy, and speaking very softly. She edged nearer and could just make out the back of Napoleon’s head through the crack. Just one more step and the words became clear.
“…but I just can’t hold it inside any longer. I’ve tried to deny it - kept on dating and acting as normal as possible, but I have to tell you. I’m in love with you.”
Aha! She was right. The only woman she could think of that would still be here was Anna, Illya’s lab assistant, who sometimes stayed and cleaned up after him. Well, Anna wasn’t the type of woman Napoleon normally went for, but she was cute, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and she kept herself in good shape. She was also very intelligent, if a bit introverted. Maybe it was true that men don’t marry the type of woman they…well, you know.
She held her breath and listened intently for a response, hoping that [whoever] it was would speak loudly enough that she could catch the voice and figure out exactly who had captured Napoleon’s heart. Surely no woman, not even the quiet, disinterested Anna, could turn down such a declaration of love from the suave, cool Napoleon Solo.
Eleanor strained her ears and heard --- nothing. No response at all.
Of course! Napoleon had sought out this solitary room so he could practice in private what he would say to win his beloved. Maybe he was going to tell the lucky lady, tonight, how he felt about her. Obviously, it was someone who would be in the building right now, or he would have gone home to practice his soliloquy. Let’s see, who else was still in the building? There was Gus, the janitor; Lisa, who was probably gone by now; and… No, it couldn’t be. Could it? Could Napoleon be in love with her? Well, it certainly wasn’t Gus! She covered her mouth with her hand to help suppress a giggle.
Her thoughts drifted back to the previous night. She was standing in her living room, staring at the inside of her front door. Napoleon had just escorted her to her fifth floor apartment, taken her key, unlocked the door, kissed her hand, said a very polite good night, and stepped back into the elevator without a second glance.
He had been acting strangely from the moment she had slid into the leather seat of his powder blue T-bird. No sly compliments on her tight fitting dress, no long lingering looks at strategic parts of her body, and his hands had remained firmly on the steering wheel all the way to the restaurant instead of straying to her cheek, her neck, her thigh.
The odd behavior had continued once they were seated at their table. Oh, he had been polite enough - Napoleon could be no other way with a woman. But there had been no flirting in his eyes when he smiled, and his voice hadn’t gone all deep and breathy when he spoke to her, and not once had he reached for her hand or twirled a strand of her hair around his finger.
What had she done wrong? A look in the full-length bathroom mirror had confirmed that her hair was perfectly coiffed in the latest style, her makeup impeccable - just like the girls in the fashion magazines. Heaving a sigh, she had removed her expensively stylish dress - turquoise, which always did remarkable things for her eyes - brushed her teeth, washed her face and slathered it with cold cream, brushed out her hair and put it up in pin curls.
She then had flipped off the bathroom light, allowing the little nightlight to illuminate her way into the bedroom, where she slipped into her nightie and crawled into bed - alone. Definitely not the way she had intended the evening to pan out.
Just as she was finally drifting off, her eyes had flown open and she abruptly sat up in bed as the thought struck her. She had determined to get to the bottom of it, beginning the next day at work.
The main question was: why did Napoleon take her out last night, if he was pining for someone else? Of course, their date had been arranged nearly two weeks ago, just before he and Illya had left for Lisbon. Oh, to spend two weeks in Lisbon with Napoleon - or Illya, for that matter.
Although Illya didn’t come anywhere near Napoleon where the social graces were concerned, he was always very polite. There was something wild and exotic about him that Eleanor couldn’t resist, and he was so good looking. Every time he looked her direction she was captivated by how blue his eyes were. Sometimes he took off his jacket, and there was just something about him in his white dress shirt and leather shoulder holster that made her weak in the knees.
And it wasn’t as though he completely lacked charm. She had seen him turn it on when he needed to, and even though it had never been directed at her, it was a potent force. Eleanor was convinced that Illya just needed the right person to thaw that frozen Russian exterior and release the warm, passionate man she knew lurked within.
The cement walls and awful beige tile floor of the U.N.C.L.E., New York basement came back into focus as she heard Napoleon begin speaking once again.
“There’s no logical reason why I should feel this way. We’re polar opposites. We hate each other’s music, vodka makes me vomit, I’m a clothes horse and you have zero fashion sense, and the only reason we like the same foods is because you’ve never met a plate of anything you didn’t like.”
Well, if he thought that kind of talk was going to convince her! Besides, she drank gin. Certainly he should know that by …
Napoleon’s voice had softened considerably. “That’s how I know that it’s love. There is nothing about you that should attract me. Well, okay, maybe you’re one of the most brilliantly intelligent people I have ever met, and your eyes are hypnotic, and your mouth is lush and sexy, and your hair is like spun gold in the sunlight, and your body is fit and… What was I saying? Oh, yeah, there’s nothing about you that is remotely similar to any of the things that attract me, so it must be something far deeper than attraction. It must be lo…umph!”
Eleanor heard a loud ‘thwack’ against the wall inside the lab. Afraid that in his impassioned state Napoleon had tripped and hurt himself, she burst through the door and saw that there was, indeed, someone else in the room with him. Not only that, but the someone had him pressed up against the wall - their bodies so close together it looked as though they were lying down - and was kissing him, hands roaming possessively.
Too shocked to move, Eleanor listened to the moans and murmured endearments and watched until buttons started slipping through holes and clothing started coming off, then she backed silently out the door and retreated, shaking her head. Only she could have that kind of luck. The two most attractive men she knew, and now both of them were off the market.
Author: aneuhaus
Rating: PGish
My undying gratitude to azdak for her practiced eye and willing heart. Also, as usual, I went begging to her for a title, and she produced this one, along with the poem she took it from.
"My Heart Has Made Up Its Mind"
by Wendy Cope
My heart has made its mind up
And I’m afraid it’s you.
Whatever you’ve got lined up,
My heart has made its mind up
And if you can’t be signed up
This year, next year will do.
My heart has made its mind up
And I’m afraid it’s you.
“Hello, Miss Rodgers,” the lovely young redhead greeted the equally attractive woman behind the large desk.
“Hi, Eleanor. The old man isn’t in, so you don’t have to be so formal. How are you?”
"Frankly, a bit confused, Lisa. Have you seen Napoleon lately?”
“Yeah. I went out with him Tuesday night. He was weird, though. If I didn’t know better, I’d tell Mr. Waverly that THRUSH had sent us another double.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I went to dinner with him last night, and it was - um - just dinner, if you know what I mean - as if we were old college pals, or something.”
“That’s exactly how he was with me!”
“So it isn’t you, then.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I had a lot of time to think last night, since I was home before eleven o’clock.”
“And what did you come up with?”
“I think - now, don’t laugh - that Napoleon Solo is in love. I told you not to laugh!”
“Oh, come on. You say something that outrageous and expect me not to laugh? Napoleon knows the meanings of a lot of words that most people don’t, and shouldn’t, but he definitely doesn’t know the meaning of the word 'love'. I don’t think I’ve even heard him say it in the four years I’ve known him, unless he was applying it to a five hundred dollar suit or a plate of ravioli. Besides, if he is in love, who is it? And why is he still dating?”
“That’s what I was wondering. I thought you were the most likely candidate. Maybe he’s too shy to declare himself. There you go, laughing again.”
“You have to admit that’s pretty ridiculous.”
“I don’t know. I’ve often thought that there’s an important part of Napoleon that he keeps hidden away - some secret that he doesn’t feel he can trust anyone with.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say, Eleanor. Any way, you asked if I had seen him lately. He came by here just before you walked in, and sailed right past without even a tilt of his head. I asked him where he was going, just to get his attention. ‘Oh, Lisa’, he said, and looked right past me, ‘how are you?’ and without even waiting for a reply he headed straight for the elevator. And the strangest thing - he pressed the button for the basement. Here it is, seven pm on a Friday, and not only is he still here, but he’s going to the basement.”
“Hmmm, I was just on my way to the basement myself to see Il…i…if any files had been left lying around down there. You know how absent minded those genius-type scientists are.”
“Alright. I, for one, am going home. The old man has been gone for an hour and I’m still here. That’s got to stop!”
“Have a good weekend, Lisa.”
“Oh, Eleanor, if you run into Napoleon, are you going to ask him about his deep, dark secret?”
“Being laughed at three times in one day is all I can take. Good night, Lisa.”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
The elevator deposited Eleanor in the semi-dark and slightly dank basement hallway. On the ride down, she had decided that she would, indeed, ask Napoleon what was going on the next time she ran into him. After all, he was intimately familiar with every orifice of her body. That should give her some rights.
As she expected, there was only one light on in the long corridor, so she headed toward it. It was coming from the Illya’s lab. Illya always worked later than anyone else, whether he was developing or analyzing something in the lab, or doing his (or Napoleon’s) paperwork in his office. She knew he wasn’t in his office. She had already checked.
Eleanor wasn’t sure what she would say to Illya if she found him. She only knew that she hadn’t laid eyes on him all day - and that just wouldn’t do. Besides, it was Friday, and the idea that it would be two whole days before she would have a chance to look into those gorgeous blue eyes and, if she was very lucky, see those tempting lips turn up into that slight half-smile that made her heart beat just a bit faster than normal, was not one she was willing to take.
More often than she would like to admit, she had caught herself daydreaming about slipping that black turtleneck off and exploring, with hands and mouth, what lay beneath. Looking and not touching had never been one of her rules to live by.
She approached the sliver of light that shone through the slightly ajar door and heard voices. No, a voice. Deep and breathy, and speaking very softly. She edged nearer and could just make out the back of Napoleon’s head through the crack. Just one more step and the words became clear.
“…but I just can’t hold it inside any longer. I’ve tried to deny it - kept on dating and acting as normal as possible, but I have to tell you. I’m in love with you.”
Aha! She was right. The only woman she could think of that would still be here was Anna, Illya’s lab assistant, who sometimes stayed and cleaned up after him. Well, Anna wasn’t the type of woman Napoleon normally went for, but she was cute, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and she kept herself in good shape. She was also very intelligent, if a bit introverted. Maybe it was true that men don’t marry the type of woman they…well, you know.
She held her breath and listened intently for a response, hoping that [whoever] it was would speak loudly enough that she could catch the voice and figure out exactly who had captured Napoleon’s heart. Surely no woman, not even the quiet, disinterested Anna, could turn down such a declaration of love from the suave, cool Napoleon Solo.
Eleanor strained her ears and heard --- nothing. No response at all.
Of course! Napoleon had sought out this solitary room so he could practice in private what he would say to win his beloved. Maybe he was going to tell the lucky lady, tonight, how he felt about her. Obviously, it was someone who would be in the building right now, or he would have gone home to practice his soliloquy. Let’s see, who else was still in the building? There was Gus, the janitor; Lisa, who was probably gone by now; and… No, it couldn’t be. Could it? Could Napoleon be in love with her? Well, it certainly wasn’t Gus! She covered her mouth with her hand to help suppress a giggle.
Her thoughts drifted back to the previous night. She was standing in her living room, staring at the inside of her front door. Napoleon had just escorted her to her fifth floor apartment, taken her key, unlocked the door, kissed her hand, said a very polite good night, and stepped back into the elevator without a second glance.
He had been acting strangely from the moment she had slid into the leather seat of his powder blue T-bird. No sly compliments on her tight fitting dress, no long lingering looks at strategic parts of her body, and his hands had remained firmly on the steering wheel all the way to the restaurant instead of straying to her cheek, her neck, her thigh.
The odd behavior had continued once they were seated at their table. Oh, he had been polite enough - Napoleon could be no other way with a woman. But there had been no flirting in his eyes when he smiled, and his voice hadn’t gone all deep and breathy when he spoke to her, and not once had he reached for her hand or twirled a strand of her hair around his finger.
What had she done wrong? A look in the full-length bathroom mirror had confirmed that her hair was perfectly coiffed in the latest style, her makeup impeccable - just like the girls in the fashion magazines. Heaving a sigh, she had removed her expensively stylish dress - turquoise, which always did remarkable things for her eyes - brushed her teeth, washed her face and slathered it with cold cream, brushed out her hair and put it up in pin curls.
She then had flipped off the bathroom light, allowing the little nightlight to illuminate her way into the bedroom, where she slipped into her nightie and crawled into bed - alone. Definitely not the way she had intended the evening to pan out.
Just as she was finally drifting off, her eyes had flown open and she abruptly sat up in bed as the thought struck her. She had determined to get to the bottom of it, beginning the next day at work.
The main question was: why did Napoleon take her out last night, if he was pining for someone else? Of course, their date had been arranged nearly two weeks ago, just before he and Illya had left for Lisbon. Oh, to spend two weeks in Lisbon with Napoleon - or Illya, for that matter.
Although Illya didn’t come anywhere near Napoleon where the social graces were concerned, he was always very polite. There was something wild and exotic about him that Eleanor couldn’t resist, and he was so good looking. Every time he looked her direction she was captivated by how blue his eyes were. Sometimes he took off his jacket, and there was just something about him in his white dress shirt and leather shoulder holster that made her weak in the knees.
And it wasn’t as though he completely lacked charm. She had seen him turn it on when he needed to, and even though it had never been directed at her, it was a potent force. Eleanor was convinced that Illya just needed the right person to thaw that frozen Russian exterior and release the warm, passionate man she knew lurked within.
The cement walls and awful beige tile floor of the U.N.C.L.E., New York basement came back into focus as she heard Napoleon begin speaking once again.
“There’s no logical reason why I should feel this way. We’re polar opposites. We hate each other’s music, vodka makes me vomit, I’m a clothes horse and you have zero fashion sense, and the only reason we like the same foods is because you’ve never met a plate of anything you didn’t like.”
Well, if he thought that kind of talk was going to convince her! Besides, she drank gin. Certainly he should know that by …
Napoleon’s voice had softened considerably. “That’s how I know that it’s love. There is nothing about you that should attract me. Well, okay, maybe you’re one of the most brilliantly intelligent people I have ever met, and your eyes are hypnotic, and your mouth is lush and sexy, and your hair is like spun gold in the sunlight, and your body is fit and… What was I saying? Oh, yeah, there’s nothing about you that is remotely similar to any of the things that attract me, so it must be something far deeper than attraction. It must be lo…umph!”
Eleanor heard a loud ‘thwack’ against the wall inside the lab. Afraid that in his impassioned state Napoleon had tripped and hurt himself, she burst through the door and saw that there was, indeed, someone else in the room with him. Not only that, but the someone had him pressed up against the wall - their bodies so close together it looked as though they were lying down - and was kissing him, hands roaming possessively.
Too shocked to move, Eleanor listened to the moans and murmured endearments and watched until buttons started slipping through holes and clothing started coming off, then she backed silently out the door and retreated, shaking her head. Only she could have that kind of luck. The two most attractive men she knew, and now both of them were off the market.